by C. Ellsworth
The laughter picked up again but died down quickly this time. Testing one’s tolerance, as Phineus had put it, was what kept the gambling chips moving between hands. And the one who could hold on the longest would receive a prize, but was any prize worth that kind of torture?
Phineus continued. “Now . . . if, after placing your hand on the Proving Stone, the symbol turns green, take your place beside Mayor Aldis.” The mayor smiled and gave a nod. Green meant you were one of the chosen few, one of the Proven. But no one had ever reasoned out how the Proving Stone made its choice.
Phineus pushed his spectacles back into place again. “Regardless . . . once you have finished your turn . . . please return to your place quickly so that we can keep a steady pace. Now, let us begin.”
Addy’s name wouldn’t be called for some time, but that didn’t stop her stomach from churning in her gut so fiercely she might vomit. Were others as nervous as she? Emma Abilene, standing beside her hairy boyfriend a few paces away, certainly seemed a little peaked.
Bran Everston—a lanky, knobby-kneed boy with a large head of dull, disheveled hair—scrambled forward across the stage. He handed a rolled parchment to Phineus before making a quick retreat. The old man unrolled it, and—after pushing his spectacles back into place yet again—studied it momentarily before speaking. “The . . . uh . . . first person to participate in this Cycle’s Proving is . . . Alem Daughtry.”
The crowd erupted mostly in cheers, but a handful groaned or cursed instead, likely because they had lost their bets. Some shouted words of encouragement like “Don’t let go, Al!” and “You can do it!” while others shouted the opposite, likely having bet against him. What a foolish game.
Alem swaggered from the crowd and into the clearing around the Proving Stone. He looked much like his younger brothers, Thomas and Chance, their dark hair short and curly, their eyes small and squinty. They looked every bit the pranksters that they were. How many times had they put something icky on her head? It was going to be a treat to watch Al fail again like he had every Cycle. It would serve him right, too! Of course, there was always a chance the hand might turn green this time, but it was a small one.
Stepping around the device, face to the crowd, Alem took a wide stance and shook out his arms as if preparing to pick up something very heavy. Then he rubbed his hands together and reached out, brows wrinkled in concentration. His hand came to rest on that smooth surface, and an instant later he tensed, growing stiff, the illuminated symbol glowing red for all to see. Alem’s face contorted in pain, and his body jerked violently. What was happening? Was he unable to let go? There were gasps among the crowd, and Addy’s heart seized in her chest.
Then Alem crumpled to the ground in a silent heap.
Addy clapped a hand over her mouth. Lord of Light, was he dead? Was something wrong with the Proving Stone? If she refused to be tested, would they exile her to the Waste, like in the story of Cambrie Barten?
Then Alem leaped to his feet, an amused smirk on his face. Addy’s mouth dropped open. There were gasps of surprise all around, confused mutters, and then Alem gave a dramatic bow. “Thank you! Thank you!” He swept his arms wide, as if he had just finished a grand performance.
Boos erupted from the crowd, and Addy narrowed her eyes. He’d get what was coming to him. Someday.
The mayor, Phineus, and the others on the stage stood dumbfounded for a moment before Aeric was there at the Proving Stone, grabbing Alem by the arm and escorting him away. The smirk never left Alem’s face, though, and he continued to bow as he went. Thom and Chance were laughing and cheering him on from somewhere in the crowd. Fools, all of them!
After Alem was gone, Phineus continued the calling of names. Next came Jemmy Little, who made no attempt to test her tolerance when she failed. She let out a squeak, jerked her hand away, and then left the Proving Stone amid lackluster cheers and clapping. With Tower’s Luck, Addy’s turn would go so well, quick and uneventful!
Three more names were called then, and only one person, Tan Olstead, made any attempt at all to hold on, but he still managed to do so for only a few seconds. Mr. Clemmens continued to collect wooden chips at a furious pace. How could the man live with himself, knowing the suffering this game caused to those who lost? Why didn’t the mayor put a stop to it?
A rotten lump still sat heavy in Addy’s middle, but her stomach no longer churned violently. Not one person had died. Not even close. She should box Eddis’s ears for ever mentioning that!
Phineus called the next name. “Traizen Dodson.” Now, this might prove interesting. Traizen had proven his strength before. Could he best his last attempt? Oh, how the betting chips flew!
The tall man—his jaw strong and his head topped with reddish-brown hair—pumped a celebratory fist in the air before marching into the clearing with a prominent swagger to his step as if he was actually looking forward to getting shocked. He did not go straight to the Proving Stone, though; instead, he pranced about before the crowd, raising his arms into the air and crying out triumphantly. What a buffoon!
Cheers erupted from the crowd, cheers that grew even louder when he started blowing kisses to all the girls in the front row. A smile had snuck onto Addy’s face, but she quickly made it vanish. The man was a pompous bloatfly and didn’t deserve praise for such ridiculous behavior! Still, it was a little funny. But only a little.
Not everyone in the crowd was cheering, however. There were frowns and scowls from some. Rich Worthings—whose daughter had been one of the Proven to go with Traizen two Cycles ago—was among those with dark glares. And then there was Suli Beestride, whose nephew went with Traizen the Cycle before that. Did they blame the man for coming back alive, when their family members hadn’t? It wasn’t uncommon for one or more people to be lost on the journey, but never before had one survived two in a row, when every one of his companions had perished.
When Traizen had finally finished with his performance, he spun on his heel and marched to the device. There, he took several deep breaths before placing his hand above the surface. Then he pressed his hand down.
The large muscles in his arm flexed, his square jaw clenched, but that was it. Was anything happening? Was the device working? The light had turned red. A full five seconds passed, and Traizen still stood there very still.
Eight seconds. Nothing. Ten seconds.
His extended arm began to tremble slightly. Fifteen seconds. The crowd began counting in unison, “Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.” Traizen lowered his head, sweat beading on his prominent brow.
The crowd shouted. “Twenty! Twenty-one! Twenty-two!”
Traizen let out a loud roar, and Phineus and the others on the stage shared uncertain glances. Guard Captain Aeric shifted from his position with the guards, brows drawn in concern. Should someone do something?
Three more seconds passed, the crowd still shouting the count. “Twenty-three! Twenty-four! Twenty-five!” And that was it for Traizen. The man jerked his hand away and took a step back, his legs wobbling slightly beneath him. He turned back to the crowd, though, and raised his hands again triumphantly. The crowd cheered, and someone threw a rose at his feet. Really? A rose? Traizen’s effort had certainly been admirable, but was his brain now fried like an egg? Smoke should have been pouring from his ears at least.
When Traizen finally returned to his place among the other guardsmen, the mayor took a step forward, jowls shaking as he shook his head in amusement. “I think we have a new record!” The crowd cheered louder. “Well done, Mr. Dodson. Can anyone else match this incredible feat?” The chips going furiously into Mr. Clemmens pocket said some at least thought it worth a wager.
Eleven more names were called after that, and not one was able to best, or even come close, to Traizen’s count. Even Gordon Steward, with his barrel chest and arms like tree trunks, could only manage to reach a count of fourteen. Sorsia, the largest of the female guardsmen, bested all the other women and most of the men as well, reaching a count of twelve.
> Then four more people took their turn at the Proving Stone, and all failed the test. Was anyone going to pass this year? Would they have to cancel the journey to the Tower and the Affirmation? What would happen then?
Four more were called. And four more failed. Now it was time for the sixteen-year-olds.
Uthwin Allars was the first of her group to be called. His mama hugged him closely, her cheeks wet with tears, before sending him forward with a proud-but-fearful smile on her round face. Mrs. Allars didn’t have long to fret, though, because Uthwin did about as well as most of the others and was soon back at her side.
Phineus’s bespectacled eyes scanned the crowd. “Adele Swift.”
Addy’s heart leapt into her throat. This was it! It was her turn! She swallowed and looked at Papa.
Papa gave her a nod and a wide smile. “Good luck, sweetheart.” His voice was barely heard above the noise around them. “But don’t worry about holding on if you don’t want to. You have nothing to prove.”
Addy nodded, then turned toward the Proving Stone. The crowd separated before her, giving her a clear view of the dark device. There was a soft thrumming sound all of a sudden. Was it coming from the Proving Stone, or was it just her heart beating?
Gevin’s voice called out, “Be strong, Addy! Be safe!”
Addy stepped forward, eyes transfixed on the Proving Stone. The voices around her, the commotion, all seemed to come from afar. It would be a small shock, right? Or would she be one of the unlucky ones and end up dead, burned to a crisp like bacon in a pan?
Addy emerged from the crowd and walked around the waist-high device. The Proving Stone now stood before her, the handprint on its top glowing a peaceful blue. How many others had touched it before? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? After so many the surface should have been visibly worn, but it looked as if it had been constructed just yesterday.
Someone cleared his throat. “Go ahead, my dear.” Phineus didn’t sound impatient. He was never impatient. How long had she been standing there? The people in the crowd before her were looking on expectantly, while gambling chips continued to exchange hands. Were the people voting for her, or against?
The thrumming in her ears was louder, and it was definitely not her heartbeat. It was coming from the Proving Stone, but it was resonating in time with her heartbeat. No one had ever mentioned that happening! Her stomach twisted sharply. Something was wrong. Should she tell someone?
She glanced up. Papa and Gevin were in the crowd wearing reassuring smiles. If, for some reason, she was one of the unlucky few to be struck dead by this thing, she would never see them again. No! She was acting like a foolish child. She turned back, held her breath. This is it! Then she pressed her hand to the device.
And nothing happened. No shock. No red light. Odd. She looked to Phineus for direction, but the old man seemed as befuddled as she. The crowd around her fell silent. What was she supposed to do? Did she—
A jolt coursed through her body so strongly it lifted her onto her toes. She opened her mouth to scream, but her jaw was clamped shut, teeth clenched so tightly they might break. She tried to pull away, tried to run, but her hand was stuck fast to the device. Why couldn’t she move? That thrumming was a hundred times louder in her ears now. It grew faster and faster, louder and louder, and her heart still beat in time to its rhythm. Her whole body shuddered with each pulse.
Abruptly, the air around her exploded. The force of the blast raced outward, striking everyone before her. It flung them backward like leaves in a strong wind, dust and debris whirling along with them. The wave of destruction then hit the stage, blowing it to pieces beneath those that stood on it, creating a cloud of deadly wooden projectiles. Things were flying, people were flying. And the air was filled with screams.
Then all went dark.
Chapter 7
Addy stood in an endless field of waist-high grass dotted with white flowers. There were no trees for as far as the eye could see, no mountains on the horizon. Not even a hill broke the monotony of that green plain. Above her was a bright blue sky with white, fluffy clouds, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. Where was the light coming from?
The air around her was calm, smelling of wild grass and faintly of flowers. She began walking, but where to? Every direction looked the same. Grass. Everywhere. She held out her hands to her sides, the tips of the green blades tickling her palms as she went. It felt real enough. She glanced behind her. She was leaving no trail, no bent foliage to mark her passing. Am I dead? If she was, the Afterlife was a decidedly dull place!
Her clothing made soft swooshing sounds against the grass as she went. She was clothed in a vivid blue dress with short sleeves, a low cut neckline, and a hem that showed far too much calf. White embroidery across the breast was sewn in shapes that wove over and under, circling, and sometimes ending in sharp points. They were pretty designs, even though they didn’t look like anything in particular. If she squinted her eyes at them, though, they resembled flowers, some of them.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The sound was coming from somewhere nearby, but all around her was nothing but that endless sea of green. Tick-tock, tick-tock. What was it? Water dripping on a wooden box? No, not quite. It went on without pause. Perhaps if she kept walking she’d run into it. But was it coming from that direction or back the way she had come?
She walked for a time, at first moving in one direction, and then changing to another after finding nothing. Where was she going? It was impossible to know without any landmarks or a sun in the sky. It was as if the sun that she could not see was directly above her at all times, casting shadows straight down. Was she traveling in circles? Leaving no trail behind her made it impossible to tell!
Tick-tock, tick-tock. The sound was always there, but there was no way to find it. No matter how far she traveled, it seemed to follow right along with her. Maybe it was in her head. Here she was, stuck in this place, with nothing to keep her company but some grass and a relentless ticking noise. How long before she went mad?
On she walked, perhaps for miles, seeing nothing but grass, but she wasn’t at all tired. Shouldn’t her feet be aching by now at least? She glanced behind her yet again. There had to be something in this place, anything at all! But it was all the same, an endless sea of grass in every direction. There had to be a way out!
She turned back, and her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Standing perhaps ten paces away was a large skeg with a bare, pale chest marked heavily with scars. His head was wrapped in that familiar, impossibly-black cloth, a narrow opening for his pale eyes, and his legs were clad in baggy breeches of the same strange material. In his hand he held a heavy chain that was wrapped around his forearm, its length extending to something hidden beneath the grass.
A woman’s calm voice echoed in Addy’s mind. “Kill him, Adele.”
Mama? By her tone, she may as well have been telling her to sweep the floor. “Kill him quickly.”
“I—I can’t. He’s too strong!” And what was she supposed to fight with?
The skeg pulled lightly on the chain, and a large black canth rose above the height of the grass. Its long, sharp ears twitched, and its vibrant green eyes regarded her like they would a meal.
“You must kill them, or they will kill you.” Again there was no urgency in her mama’s voice; just simple instructions.
Addy shook her head and took a step back. “I don’t know how.”
“You do know how.”
The power? Her . . . magic? “I don’t. It doesn’t—”
The skeg barked a command and released the chain. The canth bounded forward. In a few short strides, the great cat would be on her.
“Kill them, Adele. Quickly!”
“I can’t!” Addy screamed. There was a blur of black as the canth leapt. It crashed into her, knocking her to the ground. Then its sharp teeth sunk into her neck.
Addy woke with a jolt.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Her heart p
unched at her ribcage, and her breath came in rapid gasps. Another dream? There was a ceiling above her head, amber-lacquered beams crossing from one end to the other. What was this place? The air smelled heavily of rose petal incense.
All around her was a dizzying array of trinkets, decorations, swirling patterns, and floral designs, all in shades of purple and gold. Even the walls bore artwork of twisting vines and cone-shaped flower clusters. It was too much to take in all at once. She let out a deep sigh. You’re safe now, Addy. Be calm. Breathe.
Her hand closed over something soft and quilted, a blanket. She was lying in a large four-post, canopy bed, the blankets and sheets decorated with gold and purple patterns like the rest of the room. The mattress beneath her was unbelievably soft. It must have been stuffed with feathers instead of old, lumpy wool and cloth scraps like she was used to.
In front of the bed sat a large rock-and-mortar fireplace, the polished wooden mantle decorated with a variety of oddities, like the foot-high clock, its pendulum swaying back and forth, ticking. Of course. A clock. One of the very few left in working condition.
But the clock was just one among many things to investigate.
Addy slowly pushed down the covers and gave a soft hum. Someone had changed her clothes. She was now dressed in a long, white nightgown of the finest-spun wool, its long sleeves ending in ruffles. She trailed her fingers across the soft fabric. It was so beautiful! Who did it belong to? There were very few families who had the means to own such a fine thing.
She slid her legs off of the bed and placed her feet onto the wooden floor, the waxed surface cool against her bare soles. Light poured in through the window to her right. It was morning and much earlier than it had been before the Proving. How long had she been here?
She stood and reached her arms high above her head, giving a long stretch. A small smile creeped onto her lips. There wasn’t an ache in her entire body, and she could have run for miles! How long had she slept? That dream, though. Her smile faded. The dream had felt so real. The skeg. Mama’s voice . . . She shook herself. Just a silly dream.
